


of windows and waiting

by fanfictiongreenirises



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dont copy to another site, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: Dick's bored waiting for Bruce to come home. To make matters worse, he's also sick.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 20
Kudos: 289





	of windows and waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own DC.
> 
> Trigger warning: child falls out of window, and then Bruce has nightmares involving it.
> 
> I've had a cousin who died falling out of a window, ripping through the fly screen and everything, so pls keep your kids safe and away from windows that fully open. This fic was borne from hearing about another kid who died falling out of a window like a week ago.
> 
> I honestly have no idea how this fic turned out bc I wrote it in snatches when I could (lol half was written at home, a few hundred words was written on the plane where I was absolutely paranoid about my fam seeing me write, and the last bit was written in the airport during transit. And now, naturally, I'm editing and posting from my phone at my grandparent's place). So you can tell how incredibly unbeta-ed this is. 
> 
> Happy reading ^~^

THIS FANFICTION IS HOSTED ON **ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN** , WHERE YOU CAN READ IT FOR **FREE**. IF YOU’RE READING THIS ON A DIFFERENT WEBSITE, IT WAS POSTED THERE **WITHOUT** THE AUTHOR’S CONSENT.

Dick was _bored._ There was no way of getting around it. He’d been sick with a persistent case of the flu for days now, and there was only so much he could do at the Manor when he was technically on bedrest.

At least Bruce had been with him then; there’d been some meeting he absolutely _had_ to attend today, and after Alfred had informed them that Dick was well enough to spend a few hours without Bruce – “I suppose I’m Swiss cheese,” Alfred had said mildly when Bruce expressed his concerns with Dick being left alone – he’d finally caved to Lucius and left for WE.

Dick, in the meantime, had watched all the morning cartoons, even the ones he didn’t like. He’d finished the two-thousand-piece puzzle he and Bruce had begun three weeks ago, but the feeling of finishing it alone didn’t have that same taste of victory. He’d talked Alfred’s ear off while Alfred was preparing lunch, when a stern look had stopped him from washing the dishes that were in the sink.

He’d tried sliding down the bannister in his socks, but his head was still spinning just enough to throw him off balance, so he’d had to make do with sitting on it like a horse instead. Maybe when Bruce got back he’d ask him to take Dick down to the Cave.

Dick hummed to himself a little as he walked back up the stairs. It was less fun when he had to do it the long way, but he knew he’d be confined to actual bed rest if Alfred caught him climbing up to the second story. Halfway through the lullaby he had a coughing fit that he quickly muffled, face turning red as he fought to keep the sound from Alfred’s ears.

He didn’t feel like doing nothing, but he was too tired to do _something_ , so the happy middle was colouring in. Alfred, much to Bruce’s chagrin, had gotten Dick a Superman colouring book. Now Dick practised in his other colouring books so he could make the Superman one _perfect_.

The only issue was that he was now running out of his blue and red pencils much faster than the rest.

Dick stuck his tongue out as he coloured, going over Superman’s red cape so the colour would be even. He sniffled slightly; the room he was in wasn’t exactly the most used, and while it wasn’t dusty – because Alfred would _never_ let it get dusty – it had a mustiness to it that made Dick’s nose tickle.

It was a room right atop the main entrance to the Manor. Dick liked it: it was sunny and bright, and had a big window where he could see the road leading to the Manor from. It was where he waited a lot for Bruce to come home.

Dick let out three sneezes in rapid succession, and sniffled in a way that would make Alfred look at him in horror. Maybe opening the window would make it better.

He got up to the window. Most of the Manor windows were the same. They had a latch that let the entire pane swing open, much like a door. This window was large enough that the glass folded to the sides when it was opened.

Dick breathed in a lungful of fresh air, hands pressed against the wooden panel as he leaned out a little. There were vines crawling up the walls, and some part of him – a very large part of him – wanted to grab hold and swing down. But… was that…?

“Bruce!” he called, more alert than he’d been all day. He was practically jumping up and down now. Maybe Bruce would hear him better if he stood on the windowsill. “Bruce!”

Bruce usually parked in the garage and entered the house from there, but today for whatever reason, he’d decided to be dropped off at the front entrance. There was a chauffeur in the car as well, someone from WE – Dick watched as Bruce got out of the back, carrying a briefcase.

“Bruce!” he yelled, this time leaning out and waving a hand to catch Bruce’s attention, his other wrapped in the vines. “Up here!”

Bruce finally looked up as the sound of the car faded, expression going from confusion to alarm in a matter of seconds. “Dick?” he said, putting down his briefcase. “Get back inside."

Dick grinned widely, and opened his mouth to say something along the lines of _I’m fine, B, I’m an acrobat, remember? you worry too much_ , but that was when his socked foot slipped and he was holding onto just the vines.

The series of events that followed Dick would forever blame on his cold. His balance was _better_ than this – there was no way he would just happen to fall from the open window on a regular day if it hadn't been for the vertigo that had been plaguing him.

Dick had climbed up and down vines a considerable number of times, but all those times he’d been prepared for it. He’d worn gloves, whether they were from his Robin costume or makeshift ones he’d made from cutting holes into his socks. He wasn’t ready for the sharp sting of the vines digging into his hand. He was even less prepared for the vines, which, because of said sharpness, he hadn’t even gripped that tight to begin with, ripping from the wall and leaving him falling. He heard a shout from Bruce before there was a roaring in his ears, the panic threatening to overwhelm him.

He’d never romanticised falling. He’d seen it for what it was. He knew how to fall now; he’d always known how to fall. But better yet, he knew how to land.

He wouldn’t die from this height, especially not with Dick contorting his body to the best of his ability, tucking in his chin so his head was slightly better off. He did his best to shift his body mid-air so his legs would be under him.

Falling was going to _hurt,_ but he wasn’t going to die. Dick tried not to succumb to the panic. He’d probably just break a few bones, get a few scrapes. Be given countless lectures from both Alfred and Bruce and be benched until he’d recovered, which would _suck_.

But instead of hitting the harsh concrete, he was enveloped in something much warmer. Tight arms circled around his legs and his back, slowing down his descent but following through with it a little rather than jerking him to a halt.

Dick breathed harshly – _in and out_ – as he tried to come to terms with the fact that he _hadn’t_ just plummeted onto the concrete driveway. His head, which had already been building to a headache before, was now pounding away, and he was fairly certain the world was spinning but his eyes were squeezed shut, so he couldn’t tell for sure.

“—don’t move for a second,” Bruce was saying, voice tight as he ran his hands over Dick’s arms and back, assessing for anything broken or out of place. “In and out, Dick, that’s it. Status?”

Dick swallowed, forcing his mind to work. “I think I scratched my hands,” he began, more from memory than actual feeling, “and my head hurts. That’s it, though.”

Bruce peered into his eyes, checking his pupils, while a hand threaded through Dick’s hair.

“I think that’s from the cold, though,” Dick added. “My head was already hurting before.”

Bruce frowned, and Dick braced himself for the incoming lecture, but instead, Bruce just made him move his arms and legs. “I don’t think you need an x-ray,” Bruce said. “But we’ll keep you under observation.”

“I feel fine,” Dick said, moving to stand up and wincing when his scraped hands pushed off the ground. “Nothing’s broken.”

Bruce eyed him, scanning his face for any tells that indicated that Dick was lying or downplaying. Then he let out a breath, and scrubbed a hand down his face.

“What were you even doing up there?” he asked. His voice was carefully neutral.

Dick could tell that his answer would probably come up in the lecture he would be given, but it wasn’t as though he didn’t have a good reason. Besides, he hadn’t been told _not_ to go in there. Dick shuffled a bit. “I was colouring in while I waited for you to get home,” he said, knowing that ‘I was bored’ wouldn’t be the best way to go about this. “I’ve been in there loads of times. And it was stuffy so I went to open the window and then I saw you arrive so I came to say hi. I missed you.” Hopefully this, plus the little pout, would butter Bruce up enough that he'd go easy on him. 

Bruce huffed. “There are safer ways to say ‘hi’, chum.”

And that was when Dick knew that Bruce wasn’t mad. His grin was slack with relief, because he _really_ hadn’t wanted to face that lecture, not when he already felt like a bowl of soggy cereal.

“I was _really_ bored,” he said now, and looked up at Bruce with a far more pronounced pout that said _pity my sad existence_.

Instead of the usual ruffle of his hair that Dick was expecting, or the arm around his shoulders leading him inside, Bruce picked him up, holding him much more gently than he’d had ever held Dick. One hand came under his knees, so he would’ve been sitting on it if it hadn’t been for Bruce’s other hand that circled around his back, warm between his shoulder blades. 

Dick shifted to a more comfortable position, unused to being picked up like this. Usually it was him piggybacking on an unsuspecting and resistant Bruce, with the occasional instances where he would fall asleep somewhere and find himself tucked into bed, or when he was injured as Robin and had to be carried back. Bruce had never just _picked him up_ like this.

Bruce carried him into the Manor just as Alfred rushed out.

“What happened?” he asked. 

“Dick fell out of the window, if you can believe it,” Bruce said ruefully. His tone was carefully casual, but his arms tightened around his charge.

“I see,” Alfred said. “I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

Bruce followed him as he ventured towards the smaller living room.

“It’s because my cold’s making my balance wonky,” Dick defended immediately. “I wouldn’t _normally_ have fallen.”

“Then you shouldn’t’ve been playing there,” Bruce said. He placed Dick down in a sofa, and crouched in front of him. “Dick, I need you to understand. Regardless of your abilities, that fall could still have killed you--”

“I _know_ that--” Dick interrupted as Alfred began cleaning out the cuts on his palms.

Bruce went on as though Dick hadn’t spoken. “It was irresponsible of you to be there alone when you knew you weren’t at your best. I expected better from you. I _need_ better from you; Robin needs to know his limits--”

“Master Bruce, I require a basin of water. If you would be so kind?” Alfred said. The stare he had fixated on Bruce was stern. It said _get yourself together and stop taking your fear out on the child._

Dick had been expecting the lecture, but he never remembered just how - to use a word he wasn’t allowed to use - _shitty_ they made him feel. He kept his gaze fixed on his knees, forcing his legs to not swing as he sat there. He focused on the sting in his palms to shove back the sting in his eyes, and tried not to sniff. 

"My boy, " Alfred began. 

"Save it, Alf," Dick said. "Bruce is right. I need to be better if I'm gonna be his backup, and--"

"Actually," Alfred interrupted. "I was going to ask you if you wanted a cup of hot chocolate. Only half the usual portion, mind you - we do still have lunch in an hour."

Dick looked up. "I thought for sure you'd give me the second half of the lecture."

"There's a time for lectures and a time for hot beverages. Now, follow me."

* * *

Bruce was no stranger to nightmares, but in the time since taking Dick in, they'd shifted to accommodate his ward. Now, on occasion, there was a face on that person Bruce hadn't managed to save. His dreams tonight didn't hold back.

A tiny body leaping at him the way Dick was prone to do, yelling _catch me, B_ , and Bruce watching, unable to move, as he crashed to the ground. And then, blood. After studying so many crime scenes, Bruce had a perfectly good idea of how the splatter of blood and brain matter would look, how it would spread out, how the head would be caved in. In this dream, though, he saw Dick's eyes fixed on his, bright blue fading as he stared at Bruce with betrayal. He didn't say anything, but Bruce didn't need words to interpret. _You promised you would catch me,_ it read. _Why didn't you catch me?_

Bruce didn't jerk awake. Awareness lifted him up slowly, and once he'd come to, he could feel his heart pounding away at his chest. He needed to check up on Dick.

Bruce slid out from under the covers, shivering a little at the chill. He hoped Dick was having a decent night's sleep after the day's incident - if he hadn't woken Bruce up by now with nightmares, that usually meant he wouldn't be having any. He'd checked on him after getting back from patrol, and Dick had been sleeping perfectly fine, even if his breathing was rather congested.

There was a still lump on the bed when Bruce cracked Dick's door open. He could hear the puffs of breath, the slight sniffles as he fought to breathe around a blocked nose. There was an absolute mountain of tissues in the bin beside the bed, and despite everything, it made Bruce smile a little, relieved at the completely normal cause for said tissues and bedrest.

He walked over to the bed, footsteps silent. Dick was a restless sleeper, flinging himself all over the place and making for interesting mornings, but tonight he seemed to have stuck to his pillow. Bruce could see the rise and fall of his chest, the lack of blood and concaved skulls. 

He turned to leave.

"'ruce?" a tinny voice said into the stillness of the room.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Bruce said, grimacing. He'd hoped at least one of them would get a solid night's sleep.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Dick asked, sitting up. His voice was nasally and he was breathing through his mouth now.

Bruce didn't respond, going to the little sidetable that was cluttered with cold medicine. Alfred was much better at this than he was, but he could still pick out a nasal spray.

"Here," he said, holding it out to Dick.

Dick wrinkled his face at it. "It feels weird," he complained, but took it anyway. The disgruntled expression he made after administering it made Bruce's mouth quirk up.

"You should sleep," Bruce said. "Even if you don't have school tomorrow."

"You can stay," Dick said, already lying back into his mound of blankets and pillows. "Like when I have a nightmare."

Bruce hesitated. He wasn't a child like Dick was, but the thought was appealing, much more than going back to his own cold bed. Dick shifted over needlessly - he was a tiny speck on the giant mattress - and patted the spot next to him. 

Bruce hadn't expected this when he'd taken Dick into his home and into his life. He'd thought he'd be, at most, like an elder brother. But - and perhaps it was because Bruce was an only child who'd been raised without many other children to get close enough to to call _brother_ \- he didn't know whether this tightness in his chest was the exact emotion an elder sibling would feel.

He didn't ponder on it. Instead, he lifted up the sheets and got in. Dick immediately cuddled into his chest, a warm ball of flannel pyjamas. Bruce placed a hand around him and fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! I'm on a hurt Dick Grayson kick and have a few wips with that, plus a few with the batfam in general, so I'm going to do my best to finish and post those in the next couple months =D


End file.
